


Regular Haunts

by highinfibre



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, aka slowburn undead houseguests to undead parents, branwen CAN and WILL worm her way into their hearts, i'll add more tags as and when, in which mike and alison have a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highinfibre/pseuds/highinfibre
Summary: A hotel business, a litany of undead housemates - and now, a child. Mike and Alison's latest venture is parenthood, and what a journey it will be! Follow Branwen Cooper as she grows into the world, and grows into her unique little family.





	1. Eating For Boo

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this growing in my mind since before series one ended, and I've finally managed to kick-start Branwen's story! I'm excited for how this will turn out, so I hope you all enjoy.

All was quiet in the Button House. The doors were all sealed up, there had been no pigeon (or dog) break ins for several months now. Floorboards were now stable, and absolutely no windows were cracked or shattered. They’d even been double glazed. It had been a year of gruelling work, but the place was fully insulated, and ready to go! There were only a few more rooms to restore, and the only reason _that_ was slow going was due to the insistence on historical accuracy from their Ghostly inhabitants. Apparently posh people being sticklers transcended even time itself. But the best part, truly, had to be the bedroom; the latest of Mike and Alison’s many projects had been renovating and redecorating it. A new lick of paint had the space feeling brighter, and fairy lights were now a proper atmospheric feature instead of slung around the rickety four poster. That, too, was gone. Fanny had protested, apparently, but even she couldn’t argue against Alison waking up three feet under when the slats had snapped in half. But now they had a king size! So the victory was theirs.

It was that selfsame kingsize that Mike was taking his _sweet time_ getting out of. Alison had left about fifteen minutes ago in a rush – to deal with a Ghost-related incident, he assumed – which could only mean one thing.

_Mike was finally alone._

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have anything against any of the Ghosts. One of them, Robin, had been turning off the lights at night if he or Alison forgot to since last month, and the Captain knew all the words to Pirates of Penzance. Having a free way of saving money, and a man with a good taste in musicals? They were pretty well off, all things considered.

In fact, Mike had resolved to remember to get a few newer shows out from his collection. Maybe he could get Alison to watch along with them and so she could tell him the live reaction. He couldn’t help but wonder how Mamma Mia would go down with the group. Unbidden, Mike found an amused smile gracing his lips. If the Ghosts really were anything like Alison described then they’d be lucky to get through it without pausing, if everyone managed to make it to the end at all! And woe betide anyone spoke over it and got onto the Scout guy’s nerves.

On second thought, Mike decided he might just put a pin in film night. He nodded to himself as though to confirm it, using the added momentum to convince himself up and out of bed. A moment alone was all well and good, but leaving Alison to DIY-ing and the Ghosts all by herself probably wasn’t fair. He got to his feet, neatly sidestepping any and all social obligations to make the bed in favour of rooting around for the jumper that was least.. floor. Probably should stick some of them in the wash but, well. There was time for that later. Picking up a questionable red number, he gave it the cursory sniff. Bit musty - but nothing a bit of deodorant couldn’t handle! Mike held it up, clutching it at arm’s length between finger thumb so as to offer up a generous amount of spray.

He smelt it again.

The questionable mixture set Mike off simultaneously into a sneeze and a cough[1]. He took a breath, grimacing. He’d sounded just like his Dad.

Mike put the jumper on.

Luckily, he had some clean jeans spare from when he last did the washing, so the gripping event of getting dressed was a blissfully short. The main attraction of the day could finally begin: peeling off all the damaged wallpaper in the drawing room!

One might think the task Herculean - and it felt like it was to Mike - but to be honest? Most of it was at least half alright; any of the half damaged strips were supposed to be left to the historian guy coming to help repaper, so Mike himself only had to shift the stuff that was completely beyond saving. Alison, for some reason, hadn’t wanted him doing anything more complicated.

He couldn’t imagine why.

Equally, he couldn’t imagine what Alison was up to[2]. Despite being up and about, he hadn’t really seen or heard her about, and they usually ran into each other at some point during the day. It was… too quiet. Not even the distant hum of tanks, or music, could be heard in the quiet atmosphere. Mike’s face crumpled in thought. Weird.

“Alison?” He ventured, shouting in the general direction of the doorway. “Ally- _eurgh_.”

Michael has made the mistake of taking a sudden step. Grimacing, he staggered away as the smell of burning filled his nostrils. Were his mind more clear, Mike may have even dubbed it _noxious_.

“Gross.” He muttered, wafting his hand exaggeratedly in front of his face. “Sorry, Mary.”

There was a pause.

“Er. If any more Ghosts are in here, can you, like, clear a path so I can leave?”

Silence greeted him. Glancing around, Mike gave an elongated nod; once he’d given what he hoped was enough time for them to move, his uncertain exit began.

“Thank… you?” He offered, glancing from side to side in the hopes that he might end up looking in someone’s direction. His preferred mental image was of them all parting for him like the Red Sea so he could safely leave.

-

Raising a singular eyebrow Humphrey[3], now alone after Mary’s swift exit, watched him go in tired amusement.

“There’s no one here mate!”[4]

-

It had taken the better part of twenty minutes - Mike had never been a strategic searcher, instead opting to wander along to whichever room he thought Alison might be in - but the conspicuously closed bathroom door seemed like a safe enough bet.

He cocked his head so as to speak against the door. “Ally?”

Once again he was met with silence. Just as he was beginning to think a ghost had locked themselves in (that Tory could, move stuff, after all) he finally got his reply.

“...Mike?”

Finally, he had found his wife in their own house! The victory almost, but not quite, overshadowed the reality of her response. Mike caught himself mid grin. Alison has sounded off, but more than that, her voice had been so _small_. That _definitely_ wasn’t right; his Alison was always quick to have a response, and a confident one at that. Even if (especially if) she hadn’t quite thought it through.

Mike bit his lip. “You alright?”

The fact she didn’t immediately tease him for the obvious was sign enough, but the uncertain waver that accompanied her request for him to come in cemented a pit of concern deep in his stomach.

Careful, he let the door swing open. The Alison that met him was dishevelled; pale, she was still wrapped in one of his t shirts and set on a long abandoned dressing gown. Her hair was mussed and a little frizzed, in the way that it did if she’s been messing with it too much. A hollow look sat in her eyes.

“What’s up?” Mike asked. Upon no answer, he came to sit beside her. His knees tucked uncomfortably under his chin when he wedged himself between the bathand her side. The tiled floor seeped cold through his clothes, but no mind was paid. “You sick or something?”

Mutely, she shrugged. Her shaking hand reached out, thrusting something white straight in his line of vision. He had to lean his head back to properly take in what it was; Alison had brought it way too close for his eyes to focus. This new gift of sight brought exactly two things to attention:

> 1:Alison is holding a pregnancy test.  
2: Alison is holding a very positive pregnancy test

Mike’s heart all but leapt into his mouth.

“A baby?”

“A _baby_!”

“You’re gonna be having an actual baby?”

“No, thought I’d pop out a new pigeon,” Alison shot him a look showing precisely how far she was from being in the mood for this kind of disbelief. “_Of course it’s a baby, Mike!_”

Her voice was hushed and high pitched and, to his credit, Mike looked suitably chastised. For all of three seconds. The silence had given him just enough of his wits to register the fact that Alison, Allie, his wife, had in fact tested positive for carrying a baby. His baby, to boot!

He was going to be a father.

“That’s great-”

“In what world is this _great_?”

Ah. It seemed that, in his excitement, Mike had completely failed to register the aura of Impending Doom that Alison was giving off in waves. He made to respond, but he was quickly cut off.

“We still haven’t paid half the loans back yet, the house isn’t even decorated yet, we have different workers and archaeologists coming in every other day” She was rambling, now, here eyes going glassy the more she let herself overthink. ”And Julian hasn’t got any pants!”

“Listen-”

“I can’t _morally_ let a baby see-”

“_Alison_.”

Alison went quiet with a start, her mouth snapping shut. Her eyes shot to Mike, managing to look _at_ him rather than _through_ him for the first time that day.

“It’ll be fine, yeah?” He reached over, taking one of her hands in his. The pregnancy test was squished awkwardly between them, but that wasn’t important. “I know we’ve talked about it, but do you actually still _want_ a baby?”

A pause. Alison swallowed thickly. “..Yeah.”

“Me too.” Mike broke out into a grin. “So we’ll fumble through, right? I mean, we’ve gotten this place up and running, and we have all this stuff happening with archaeologists and ‘historical interest’. That’s bound to get us something. Anyway, seeing ghosts is your thing, it’s not like you can pass it on.”

“Oh yeah..” Alison exhaled, some small weight lifting from her shoulders. She often forgot that the Ghost Vision was just hers; with how much time she’d spent with them since moving in, they may as well all be weird, distant cousins or something.

A slight nod, and Alison’s gaze focused further, the logic of Mike’s words actually managing to sink in. They had, she realised, made it this far hadn’t they? None of this Button House stuff had been planned and, aside from the odd setback, it had all worked out sort of alright so far. She softened, if just a little, and allowed her head to rest against Mike’s shoulder. His head rested atop hers, and everything felt a little bit more right in the world.

“Let’s.. Let’s just keep this between us for now, yeah?”

Mike’s eyebrow twitched. “Obviously - I don’t want all my lot swarming down before we’ve even wrapped our heads around it.”

Laughing, Alison elbowed him in the side. “Not your family - I meant the Ghosts. Imagine if they all find out I’m pregnant? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

-

“Alison and Michael are making a baby!”

Kitty had burst in with all the force of a hurricane, the words exploding from her in a child-like glee! Safe to say the drawing room, enjoying the attendance of the full group, was in immediate uproar.

“I beg your pardon-”

“Kitty, I don’t -”

“Oh are they now-

“Kim Wilde gettin’ wild-”

“Good Lord!”

“-think you should really be intrudin-”

Thomas, who had been wholly silent in the clamour, stood up, stalking through the far wall without a word. All shocked reactions were abruptly cut off[5], the Ghosts messily falling into silence. For all of about a second, that is; several of them moved to open their mouths again. The Captain, however, was having absolutely none of it. Taking a stand, he held his hands up for silence.

“Right.” He began, enunciation crisp as he settled into his element. “I’m not having any more of this nonsense chattering - we _will_ speak coherently, and I daresay we will get to the bottom of this. Any questions?”

The Captain raised his eyebrows, waiting, and leaving the other Ghosts in varying states of surprise. The amount of times the Captain had actually wanted questions could be counted on one hand[6], so they were all rather lost for words.

Pat, the fastest to regain himself, hesitantly raised a hand.

“Patrick?”

“Well I thought we might, like, pass something ‘round - whoever’s holding it gets to have their turn to speak.” He smiled, looking around his fellow ghosts. “It used to work alright with my boys, back when.”

Taking a moment, the Captain mulled it over, his eyes already darting across the room for something to use. But only Julian was able to actually _interact_; anything corporeal simply wouldn't do. There'd be nothing else for it.

"Right you are." The Captain gave Pat a stiff nod of thanks, before addressing the group at large. "I'd wager it'll be the only way to get you lot to behave."

Pursing his lips, the Captain had to fight to restrain an amused smirk[7]. He turned on his heel. In a burst of quick thinking, he brought out his swagger stick, offering immediately to Kitty. "Yes please, Kitty." He encouraged, gesturing lightly with the stick until she took it. "You shall start. Explain what you saw- _properly_, mind you."

The remaining members of the party looked on; Fanny with some dubious disapproval, Julian, Robin, and Mary with mild curiosity, and Pat with a nice bit of encouragement[8]. Despite themselves, everyone wanted to hear about this baby making business.

“Well,” Kitty grinned, clutching the swagger stick between her hands. She shifted restlessly in place. Rare was it that one got so much undivided attention in the chaotic atmosphere that was Button House, and she was certainly going to relish it. “I hadn’t seen Alison in _ever_ so long, so I decided to look for her, but when I came past the bathroom I heard Alison say she was _pregnant_.” Kitty’s last word was punctuated by her gasp, clearly amazed by her own admission. She looked to the other Ghosts expectantly.

The groups’ sighs and eye rolls were uniform. Though no one had expected Kitty’s initial statement to be accurate, the realisation was still enough to be painful.

“_No_, Kitty,” Julian sighed, gesturing towards her. “She’s _having_ a baby. Not making, _having_.”

“I’ve still got the stick! It’s not your turn yet.”

Pat turned to the man in question, shooting him a terse smile. “To be fair, Julian, you are only supposed to talk when you’ve got the stick-”

“Ah-beh-bah-_just_. Just _listen_ to what I’m _saying_.”  
  
Julian, to his credit, had been hit with a momentous realisation, the evidence of which had been showing on his face the moment he’d corrected Kitty. Pat was silenced with a sharp flap of his hand and, wide eyed, he got to his feet.

“Do you not realise what this means?” He began. Then he, with a sharp sigh, stuck his hand out for the stick. “There’ll be a kid, running around and _making noise_ all night,” A pointed look to the Captain “and who knows what else.” Speech over, Julian tossed the swagger stick back to its rightful owner[9], who caught it with an irritating level of ease. Silence reigned, the gravity of the realisation hanging over each of them. A child in Button House- that hadn't happened since Pat's day, and none had been raised here since the time of Lady Button.

"Well, I.. do suppose it will be rather nice." The spell was shattered, begrudgingly so, by the Lady in question. She had spoken softly, but the usual sharpness made a swift return. "It's about time Alison started properly settling down."

"Yeah," Pat agreed." Be great to see another'un running around, they might even be able to play with my Pat, once they're old enough."

"Oh yes, we could all play together in the parlor-”

The Captain scoffed. “Ah yes, then we’ll never have a moment’s peace.”

“We can at least ask Alison if-”

_ **“AAAGH.”** _

Robin’s yell was quick to silence. No matter how many times one was chastised by it (and they looked suitably so), the Ghosts were never quite prepared. “No botherin’ Alison.” He grunted, shooting them all a warning look. “Baby carryin’ difficult. Needs peace.”

Mary piped up beside him. “I thinks it’s best if Miss Alison tells us all herselves...”

“Quite right.” Fanny nodded sagely. “It’s not polite to divulge a Lady’s secrets, much less accost her with them.”

“Very _well_ then.” The Captain cleared his throat. He seemed eager to regain his control over the situation. “Until Alison mentions the matter, we are to keep this to ourselves. She can’t know that we know. Understood?”

-

It had taken a bit, but Alison could safely say she was feeling a little more at ease with the whole situation. Certainly, it was a lot to take in (her hand rested against her stomach even as she thought) but a nice long shower and a good chat with Mike had really put things into more perspective. Did she still feel grim? Yes. Was her body only going to feel worse as the months went on? That was practically a given. But now she was certain, at least, and could go back to getting on with some (light) repair work. It was on her way to this that she passed the Captain, roaming the halls in a similar fashion.

“Alison.”

“Captain.”

The two exchanged nods[10]\- a staple dialogue for two people who don’t wish to be impolite or converse, just swiftly on their way. Simple and effective, yet, as Alison was appalled to realise, the Captain was betraying that unspoken agreement. Not only had he stopped, but he was… staring at her? It only lasted for a moment - a moment too long, Alison might think - as she was quick to nip it in the bud.

“Everything alright, Captain?” She ventured.

“Oh- yes, yes of course.” He cleared his throat, his eyes still flickering over her. “Good day to you.”

Making an about turn, the man was soon on his way, leaving Alison to be mollified in his wake.

Ghosts were_ weird_.

-

“-and we’ll have ever so much fun!”

“Yeah, Kitty.” Alison, to her credit, had been half listening the whole time Kitty was talking. Once again, it was something about their next sleepover on the 31st of April[11], but if you were to press Alison for further details then it would be to no avail. In her defence, she had a few bigger things on her mind today. Like the new nine month deadline to get the house in order, and where not to look to make up for the angle at which Julian was squatting.

If Kitty noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, her ever present grin slipped away, shock taking its place. “Oh! But will we still be able to do these once you’ve had the-”

“Alison! Just the girl I wanted to see!” Julian straightened abruptly, turning to fix Alison with a very political grin. “Do you think you could _rearrange_ some of these chess pieces for me? Robin and I have a, shall we say a bet? It’s one I’d rather not lose…”

“...Sure?” Fixing him with a suspicious stare, she went to do as instructed.”

“Yes, yes, just the rook, and the...King over there…” His spoke vaguely; his main attention was on giving Kitty a warning look whilst Alison’s back was turned. They couldn’t blow their cover yet, it had barely been an afternoon!

“Well, there you go Juli- hang on.” Alison frowned. “Did you just make me cheat at chess for you when you could’ve moved the pieces yourself?”

“Lovely chat, must dash!”

Julian shot her over his shoulder what he imagined to be a roguish grin, making quick work of marching himself _and_ Kitty out of the room. Thank God he was about to sort things, he thought, the other's would surely fall apart without him!

Alison was left to frown, to herself this time. Something about the Ghosts wasn’t quite adding up today.

-

** _“BOO!”_ **

“Oh, _Robin_!”

Alison sighed in frustration at her damp torso; Robin’s timing was always concerning, but on this occasion her glass of water had suffered for it. Worst part was, seeing how pleased with himself he looked meant she couldn’t even be that mad.

At least someone was being normal today.

-

“Good Afternoon, Miss Alison.” Mary warbled.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!”

The latter part of the exchange was uttered not by Alison, as one might expect, but by a Fanny very much exasperated by what she had also just walked into. Of all her companions, she had been alive for the longest, but even she had never seen such a poorly orchestrated deception. Over exaggerated discussions, visibly sweating; Fanny had seen performances with more life from George’s taxidermy collection. Somehow, the only one being sensible about the whole ordeal was Robin. The two exchanged their first (and hopefully last) look of commiseration. Alison, meanwhile, had just about had enough of this whole charade. Hands on hips, she eyed each of the Ghosts present. Julian, Robin, and the Captain made an adequate show of keeping cool under pressure, but the rest were woefully crumbling under the steely glare.

“Right, I don’t know what’s happening with all of you, but I’m not having you all being weird like this! I’ve had a long day, and I don’t need more of a headache than what I’ve already got.”

Silence, Alison looked at them expectantly. “Well? Am I actually going to get an answer, or will you just keep being weird?”

“Really now, Alison,” The Captain began, He was indignant, but it was exaggerated even by his standards. “That- that is _no_ way to speak to any of us, and quite frankly I-”

“Guys, please!” Pat cut in, his voice barely remaining within its current octave. “Really it’s- it’s nothing important, Alison-

“Alison!”

Ah, Thomas. Just the addition an already tense situation needed. The man flounced in with such purpose that he all but jounced[12], his sleeves billowing out behind him.

“Alison, my dear! How could you conceal such momentous, such _vital_ news from mine _ears_! Had I known that you were with child, I..”

Everyone’s faces dropped, ashen. That was enough of a cue for even Thomas’ words to die in his throat.

He wrung his hands, frowning, and cleared his throat. “I… sense there’s something I’m interrupting..” His gaze flickered to Alison, who was uncharacteristically pale.

“Where did you hear that.” She sounded calm, disquietingly so. “Tell me, right now, or I _swear_..”

Robin was the one to step up to the plate. “We…. Heared it. Not fair to say… before you do.” His words were soft, his expression rearranging itself into something placating.

“It _is_ a Lady’s news to share.”

Should she have been angered? Perhaps, but all Alison could do was sigh. She was tired.

“I didn’t want to say anything yet.” She explained. “I only took the test this morning, and you’re, well,” She gestured lamely. “A lot. No offence.”

For once, the Ghosts were quiet. If they were to be honest with themselves, none could really be taken.

“But yeah, I guess you’ve all figured it out now. Congratulations.” Alison pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing back a headache.

“I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] If one isn’t familiar with the concept, it produces something akin to a violent, mucus filled shriek.
> 
> [2] Not the smoothest of segues; the thought had hit Mike himself like an amusing simile of your choice, and it seemed appropriate to introduce it as such.
> 
> [3] (The head part)
> 
> [4] Declaring so was moot, for no one was about to hear him. But, as Humphrey might explain should you ask, “it’s something to do, isn’t it?”
> 
> [5] (And cut through)
> 
> [6] With no fingers required! The Captain rarely required questions; for the longest time, the sound of his own commands had been enough. Questioning usually led to insubordination
> 
> [7] Unfortunately, in his glee, he neglected to remember that everything he said was taken seriously. As such, the sour looks his good-natured jab prompted went unseen.
> 
> [8] Humphrey’s body, having no eyes to speak of, merely walked into the furthermost doorframe. He was paid no mind.
> 
> [9] A mic drop would have better suited the air of drama he was going for, but Julian didn’t trust the outcome of letting go of a ghostly object completely. Far smarter to make sure the Captain was returned to his swagger stick.
> 
> [10] In that the Captain nodded, and Alison awkwardly mirrored him; their usual fashion.
> 
> [11] Alison did, to her credit, indulge Kitty in a date that existed sometimes. Today was not one of those instances.
> 
> [12] Jounced: (noun) A rough, jolting movement - and rather fun to say!


	2. Fighting Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient!! I know it's been like a YEAR between chapters lmao, I'm terrible. Branwen is on her way soon, I have all sorts of plans that have been sitting in mydrafts by all these months. Hope its ok!
> 
> Oh, and shoutout to the Ghiscord, who helped me out naming Zach and Alfie!

When living in a house as old as this[1], it was easy for time periods to merge. Rococo was suddenly rather modern and, surely, nineteen forty-three had only been the week prior? A caveman was a regular resident and, yet, the buffering images and stuttering audio made a Skype call feel positively ancient.

“We’re having a-”

“What was that Michael?” 

“-I’m about t-”

“Didn’t catch that, Mike, you’ll have t-”

“Do you think there’s something wrong on your end?”

“No, just-”

“Nah, Alison, turn it-”

“She’s sayin’ that-”

“-off and on again andyoumightbe able to-”

“Zach, just let me finish, alright?”

“G’wan, Alison,what were you sayi-”

“Oh my God, I actually hate skype.” Alison grumbled. When the screen froze[2], a look of unadulterated venom was shot its way. If a look were in the business of being able to kill,this one could make quite the career . 

“Hey, I tried to make her go Facebook or something, but you know what GramMa’s like. Took me, Zach, and Ava like, five years to make her even think about doing online shopping.” Mike leant back in his chair. His words were blasé, but the way his hands came to cut the back of his head, and the glassines of his eyes - it betrayed an inner pain.

I’m tearing my hair out; something Mike didn’t say, for his hair wasn’t long enough to pull.

The two of them glanced back to the still-frozen faces of Mike’s grandmother, brother , and brother in law, and Alison’s hand went to her stomach. She couldn’t hold back from letting out a sigh. Having a baby, she had come to realise, was a tougher task than most films or sitcoms liked to envision it. An epiphany she didn’t find all that shocking, but knowing something and living in it were two entirely separate cans of worms. 

“Ugh.” Alison let out a long suffering groan. Entirely sympathetic, Mike leant over, letting his head drop and rest against her shoulder. They stayed like that, broken, letting the seconds tick by without a single changed pixel to show for it. 

Mike let out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Listless, Mike tapped his fingers against his thighs. 

“I told you we should’ve just called - or texted, actually, it would have saved a lot of time.”

“But I want to see my GramMa’s face!” He pouted, shifting so as to look up at Alison with a pleading expression. “Especially ‘cos I couldn’t get out to Jamaica with the rest of them this year. She hasn’t done great-grandkids yet, I think she was losing a bit of hope to be honest. I know Ava’s considering adopting, but you know what old people are like, it’s still not quite the same as having your own, and I don’t think Heather’s fussed. Or Zach and Alfie, but to be honest I’m not actually sure what they-”

“Mike.” Alison cut him off with a long suffering fondness. 

“Right, yeah. I’m just excited.” He tells her, reaching out to squeeze her knee. “I mean, us! A a baby. I figured it’d be a couple more years before we thought about actually trying.”

The anticipation Mike had was infectious, and soon enough the truth of her husband’s words bid a grin to unfold. Alison nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” She admitted. “Sorry, Mike, I-”

“You’re having a baby?”

Three startled voices burst from the screen. Mike and Alison jumped with it, knocking their heads together as they scrambled to address their family.. Somewhere along the line, the line had decided to function. Leave it to them to have their news drop in the most anticlimactic of manners. 

“Er -yeah!”

“Yeah we are, GramMa!”

“Took you long enough!” Mike’s grandmother, Dolores, was a wizened woman.Her back bowed, cropped hair greyed, and her glasses were about as thick as her finger. Yet the eyes that peered through them shone with delight, and none of this was enough to hinder the spry way in which she jumped from her seat, and excited crowing belted out from her very core. 

“I’m going to be a GramMa!” She exclaimed, Alfie, Mike’s brother-in-law, shook his head in amusement, yet possessed the intelligence to keep his mouth shut that his husband did not. 

“You’re already a GramMa, GramMa.” Zach pointed out[3]. The remark earned him a swat from Dolores. 

“You can nitpick when you two tell me you’re expecting, Zachariah.”

“Alison,” Alfie cut in, his golden eyes shining a little desperately through the bickering. “Mike, congratulations.”

“Thanks, Alfie.” Alison replied, sharing a weak chuckle of commiseration. They both loved the Cooper family, enough to have married into it, but their present actions spoke for themselves. “I’m nearly three months along, just in case anyone was wondering, at all?”

“Yeah,” Mike added. He wrapped his arm around Alison’s waist, his contribution mostly made to feel involved with the conversation. “We didn’t want to wait too long, but we needed to get used to it, and we’ve been busy with the house, so..”

Dolores pointed to Mike. “Busy? You shouldn’t be letting your wife overwork herself when she’s carrying your baby, Michael. And you!” She turned her attention to Alison. “Take care of yourself, Alison. Have you started looking at names yet? Picked out a room for them? It might seem early, but trust me, you’re going to need a lot of time to baby proof that house of yours.”

“Course we have!” Alison cut in. “Haven’t we, Mike?” 

Mike glanced over to Alison. He noted the manic sheen to her eyes.

“Er, yeah, GramMa. We’re totally prepared. The whole first floor is covered in bubble wrap.”

The two nodded stiffly. It was about as convincing as one could expect. 

“Well, I’m not having my first great-grandbaby hurt themselves on one of those sharp corners, or - or fall into some secret passage!”

“And that plague pit probably isn’t sanitary, Mike.”

“Yes, thank you, Zach.” Mike muttered, sending a foul grimace to his brothersup>[4]. 

“Speaking of,” Alison added. “We’re actually about to do some more bubble wrapping now. Right now. Lots to do for a baby, you know, please don’t tell anyone else, thanks, bye!”

The call was ended frantically, and with twin sighs of relief. 

Mike made a face. “It won’t take that long to pick a baby room.” The deathly silence he received was answer enough[5]. “Er.. you got any names yet?”

Alison looked at him. “..No. You?”

“Yeah. Well, no.”

“Great.”

That tasty morsel sat thickly in an atmosphere one could cut like butter. They had a lot to do, and only about six months to do it in, if that. 

Mike parted his lips, pushing air out through his teeth. “...Guess Daddy should open up Google.”

Skype was closed swiftly, and with eagerness. A quick tap of the keys was all it took to begin an hour long deep dive into the biggest niche corner that Baby Internet had to offer It was a silent affair, outside of various noncommittal noises, one that was making very little headway[6]. The odd hum, shakes of heads - a very emphatic no from Alison when Mike suggested Tom for a boy - until, suddenly.

Mike frowned appreciatively., gesturing to the screen. “Ooh, how about-”

“Alison?”

“Holy-”

Mike frowned, shooting Alison quite the sidelong glance.

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

“..Was it a ghost thing?”

“Yep.”

“Ah.” Mike nodded, pursing his lips. “Are they..”

Alison obliged Mike’s implied question, pointing towards a quite sheepish Pat.

“Sorry about that.” He said, his nose scrunching up under his glasses. “I did knock… and say your name twice - but you look busy, so you probably didn’t hear.”

“Er, yeah, sorry about that, Pat.” 

“Yeah,” Mike echoed. “Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be silly.” Pat smiled, waving the both of them off. “Actually, I wanted to apologise. About before, I mean.

“Yeah it’s fine, Pat.” Alison tells him. “It was ages ago, and I don’t really know what I expected, you’re all really nosey when you’re all left to it. No offence.”

“None taken.” Pat assures her. “But you didn’t let me finish. I was going to try and make it up to you. I didn’t manage to be around for much of it before, you know.” He gestured, with both hands, to the arrow in his neck. “But Carol, Morris and myself were all quite hands on when Daley was on the way. Some of my tips might be out of style by now, but if there’s ever owt you’re stuck with, you only have to ask.”

He smiled warmly, and Alison was quick to return the sentiment.

“That’s… that’s really nice, actually. Thank you, Pat."

Mike nodded, his eyes trained intently about three inches above Pat's head. "Thank... you.."

Despite him being unable to appreciate it, Pat smiled at Mike kindly. "Well that was it, really. I'll leave you both to it."

Alison waved as he left and, for a moment, everything was quiet.

"...why were we thanking them?"

"Oh.' Alison replied. "Pat - the scout one - he had a son when he was alive. He offered to give us advice if we needed it, and he's the most sensible one here so he might actually be helpful."

"Oh , cool."

With a Pat on their side, everything seemed a little brighter. Perhaps all would run smoothly from here on out.

-

A lady, though bound by many rules of high society and the mortal plane, possessed very little qualms in ignoring solid walls at her convenience. And Fanny Button excels in being a lady. 

Ladies did not stride, but Fanny came rather close as she marched out of the south facing wall.

“Alison.” She called, her habitually-stern tone demanding audience[7]. “Alison.”

Alison unleashed a strangled groan.Curled up in bed after the latest bout of morning sickness did not lend itself well to wanting company, and couldn’t possibly be a worse window in which someone should come to nag. Her extremely Great Aunt had such a knack for timing[8].

“What is it now?” Alison grumbled. No effort was made to get up, she simply hugged her pillow closer to her chest. “No offence, but I’ve had enough with the others already. I don’t feel well and I don’t need to listen to someone else go on about-”

“The baby?”

Alison huffed out a sigh. 

Fanny, for her part, smiled. A rare occurence to behold, especially one so sincere. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “They’re all getting entirely too worked up for my tastes - one would think they’d never even seen a baby.” 

Bluster completed, Fanny moved closer. She went so far as to take a seat on the bed and her hands, rather than resting primly in her lap, parted ways so that one could rest near Alison. For the Lady of the House, it was a surprisingly tender display.

“It’s been many years since we had new life starting its journey in our walls - I believe the last was one of my first great grandchildren, Florence Button. I’m glad to see you’re making this some semblance of the family home it once was.”

There was a warmth to the faraway look in her eyes that, honestly, caught Alison by surprise. 

“Oh, well, thanks?” Alison smiled. “I mean-”

Fanny, it seemed, was not done. All at once she leant forward, that familiar, imperious pout overtaking her. 

“Now, I think this is as good a time as any to take influence from your ancestors, for once.”

Of course. Alison rolled her eyes - she should’ve known something would come up. 

“Fanny-” 

“Names, Alison. If you’re going to insist on raising and dressing her in what you like to call style these days, then she should at least be given a proper name.”

“Okay, well we don’t even know if it is a girl yet.” Alison pointed out, shifting to sit up with a huff. “

“Oh, she will be.”

“What?”

Fanny nodded knowingly. “The first Button child is often a girl. I’ve watched many of my descendants grow here , my intuition never fails.”

“..Right.”

Alison stared at Fanny. 

“Well, if you say so, but anyway we’ve-”

“Heather would be a touch on the nose, I think.” Fanny continued, oblivious[9] to Alison even opening her mouth. “But you do have an Arabella in the family, a Constance, a Euphemia - that was my niece, you know. Although I’ve always found Winnie to be quite lovely-”  
“Yeah, thanks.” Alison was desperate to interject, and fast. She willfully ignored her however-many-Great[10] Aunt’s affront. “Those, er - it sounds lovely, Fanny, but maybe you could come back later with it? Should probably check with Mike, you know how it is, and I think I just need to lie down for a bit. Yeah.”

She nodded as though to supplement her point, her eyes now rounder than the bump she was nursing. Breath bated and amazed Alison watched as, for a second time, Lady Fanny Button willingly acquiesced. A gracious nod was proffered to her, and the Lady in question rose gracefully to her feet. 

“I understand.” She replied. “It’s wise to enjoy the few moments you can get before someone tries to interfere.”

Yeah, a ghost absolutely could pop in at any moment with unsolicited suggestions for what to do with her baby. Alison flopped back down onto the bed; she could hardly begin to imagine.

-

Alison had been wrong - or, right, if one was feeling particularly literal-minded - she hardly had been able to imagine. The ghoulish guidance and spectral speculations had surrounded her in the same way one eats a tube of pringles; slowly, then all at once.

“BEAR, BEAR -"

"It's not actually a bear, mate."

"I do think they're lovely - but why are the portraits of the babies dressed like fuzzy animals?"

"Ooh, I's seen ones that looks like.. a little duckling.."

"But- bear!!"

"Honestly, we all know that it's a bear garment-"

"Ooh, er, actually, this is what one calls a onesie. Or-o-or a romper. That reminds me, now I mention it, of a-"

"Oh, and some people say babygro! It's a brand I think."

Calling it chaos incarnate felt far too forgiving[11] and not nearly descriptive enough. Shouting, muttering, gesticulating[12], it all warped into a cacophony, one that waged an unforgiving war on everyone capable of hearing it, their eardrums, and their pet tortoise[13]. Alison had only wanted to get a head start looking at baby clothes while Mike was working a little later, but apparently even that couldn’t happen without an audience. It was hellish. Especially if you had an agenda.

"Will you stop bickering about some clothing, the lot of you!" The Captain's voice rang out loud and clear. It was by no means a surprising interruption, but the Ghosts quietened all the same, lending him their ears with accidental compliance. "It looks far too restrictive, for one. The superior item is clearly the knitted dungaree set! The legs are shorter, plenty of room to wriggle should they need it. Any arguments?[14] Thought not- I have something we need to discuss, actually."

The Captain's moustache twitched.

"Now," he rapped his stick against the open palm of his hand. "It's all well and good fawning over clothes, and toys, and what have you. But let me ask you this. Where is it all to go? Hm?" Bulging eyes surveyed his audience, flickering to settle on each of them individually. "It's got to go somewhere. They were ordering paint last week!” 

The Captain frowned. “Their plan is clear - they intend to let this baby take over a room! Move one of us out!” 

His stare became twice as intense; the Captain waited, expectant, for the[15] moment everyone became as horrified as he was. 

“Er..”

The moment didn’t come. 

Fanny blinked, dumbfounded. She could scarcely believe that one of the few people possessing sense here had chosen to abandon it.

“Captain,” She began. “This is hardly news - of course the child will have a room in this house. They will grow up eventually, and we certainly have the room for one child.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing of it, isn’t it!” The Captain gestured with his stick, pointing it in Fanny’s direction with all the glee of a man who is certain he is right. “It won’t be just any room, it will have to be one of ours.”

The insistence fell upon confused ears.

“Er. Why?” Humphrey was, as ever, refreshingly verbose.

Robin nodded fervently alongside him. “Lotta rooms!”

Er, yes, erm, it’s it’s clearly quite the large house we’re in, we can easily put it elsewhere-”

“But why should it have to be one of our rooms?” Kitty cut Julian off with surprisingly little issue. “It’s Alison’s baby, it doesn’t have to do what you’ve decided. It should get to pick its own room, it might not like any of ours.”

“Kitty, that’s not quite how-”

“Good Lord, are you all entirely blind?” The Captain barked. “Our rooms are not only some of the most well preserved, they are also all close enough to Michael and Alison’s that they could hear the baby and get to them in good time. You wouldn’t put the child on flooring that could give out at any moment, it’s unthinkable! So they absolutely do have to take one of our places. Someone will have to go.”

He pointed his stick at the parent to be, emphasising his point.

“Actually.” Alison began, already preparing herself for the inevitable. “He is right. We weren’t going to say anything until I was a bit further along, but the baby will need its own space eventually. Sorry.” She cringed.

Chaos erupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1]The plumbing alone had been installed in the Victorian Era - that is, until it had to be replaced in mid-2019 after an unfortunate burst pipe - and Henry the Eighth had dined here! (He was served swan, so I’m told)
> 
> [2]An underwhelming use of the word. Mike’s laptop had been dropped several times since he’d bought it in two thousand and seventeen, and was well past glacial.
> 
> [3]Being the husband in question, Zach Cooper had pooled his common sense with Alfie in his prenuptials. Considering the latter has already made use of the communal brainpower, he had very little left to work with. This left his GramMa’s familiar antics unpredicted.
> 
> [4]It was ineffective. Retorting falls on deaf ears with sibling types, especially when used against blatant sabotage.
> 
> [5] If a touch more ironic than he’d realised. The reasons behind Alison’s response were extremely deathly, but she’d be far from getting a moment’s silence out of it.
> 
> [6]Top 100 Baby Names of 1968 and various Mum youtubers weren’t quite to Mike and Alison’s taste - who would have thought it?
> 
> [7]Were you to have the compulsion to question said demand, you would be correct in doing so; Fanny had been in possession of a very captive audience for over a century. The true challenge in Button House is to find a nook where one might speak unheard.
> 
> [8]If her nightly excursions were anything to judge by.
> 
> [9]Perhaps willfully so. When it comes to a Button, it is often possible.
> 
> [10]Had Alison chosen to read the Button family’s history outside of her initial skim, she’d know that Fanny was her Great Great Great Great Great step-Aunt (to use the closest existing term for what they are). Had you told Alison this, she wouldn't have entirely cared.
> 
> [11]It could have been its own Circle of hell, designed specifically to taunt impulsive heirs who succumb to their own hubris.
> 
> [12]Robin found a devious joy in standing behind someone particularly worked up and mimicking their every action. An underhanded method of conflict resolution and a surefire way to make things twice as busy.
> 
> [13]Whether Mike's tortoise, Nitrodozer, is conscious of the undead - or most of his surroundings - is a hot and equally taxing topic for debate.
> 
> [14]Several people raised their hands.
> 
> [15]In his mind, inevitable.


End file.
